Myster Murders
by criticalpaper
Summary: I'm new so be light. No Flames!-okay onto the story... young Elizabeth has arrived at her new home. But finds a strange letter waiting for her. read to find out what. Much thanks to my reviewer(s).


Disclaimer: I don't own any of ACD's characters.

Myster Murders

Chapter One

"Finally," said Elizabeth Weinwright, she had finally arrived at Waterloo Station, "That must have been the most boring ride ever! But then again, the countryside was a beautiful site." She sighed; her parents and grandparents had left her two years ago and had lived alone attending a boarding school since then. Here she was, dragging her sixteen year old self to the waiting car. _I shall have to wait another two years in London with my grandparents' servants until I can inherit my father's fortune,_ she thought.

After helping the driver pack her luggage in the trunk, much to his reluctance, she clambered inside.

"I hope there won't be traffic," said Elizabeth.

"Not to worry, we won't be taking the main streets," said the driver, "And by the way I'm Stevenson, your chauffeur, I think you remember me from your tenth birthday."

"Yes, I do. It was an amusing day as I recall. Now Stevenson, take her away."

When they arrived, Elizabeth was breathless. The mansion she saw was beautiful. _Just like the old times_, she thought. She rang the bell and listened to the cheery ringing. The door opened to reveal the family butler, Norman.

"And what do have here on this fine day in August," he said.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Norman," Elizabeth said.

"Um, a little help here?" muttered Stevenson laden with Elizabeth's luggage.

"Oh my, Miss Weinwright would you care to step in, my wife shall be with you shortly."

"I'm already here," said a voice behind him. It belonged to a small woman with a caring face.

"Mrs. Norman, you haven't changed since my last visit to this house," said Elizabeth.

"It's a pleasure to see you safe and sound Miss Weinwright," she replied, "Shall I show you to your room?"

The room was the same since her last visit, except for the occasional dusting. Her books were still in good condition since the last holiday she spent here. _I wonder..._, she thought. _Yes! They're still here. _What she was looking at were the books on the top shelf. They were the crime novels that she had bought years before. She fingered the one titled "The Return of Sherlock Holmes." _The memories they bring_, she thought. When she was only nine her, grandfather had read her the stories of the famous fictional detective. "If only he was real," she said. _Wait where did that come from? _She thought and blushed

She turned on her computer (Wait! Did I tell you that the time is August 30, 2004, 11:30 a.m.?) and checked her mailbox. "As if there will be any,"Elizabeth muttered. How she was wrong was beyond me because there on the list was an e-mail dated today at 11:29 a.m. _Wait nobody knows my e-mail address except my family members when on vacation, _she desperately thought. Hoping it wasn't infected she clicked on it.

Chapter Two

"Dear Miss Weinwright it said,

Congratulations, you have been accepted to attend the Academy of Mysteries. Due to the fact that you believe in a fellow detective and wish him to be realistic, your acceptance will be greatly appreciated. Your answer should be sent as soon as possible. If you don't believe this please feel to write and you shall see. The address is Myster Castle, North Yorkshire, England. A grey hawk shall take your letter when you have written your reply.

Yours Truly,

_Professor Geremoni Veridi, _

Assistant Headmaster"

_If this is a prank they should do better, but then again I had installed a very powerful firewall, _she thought. She wanted to tell someone about it but a voice told her that somehow they already know. "Accept it," a voice told her. This startled her. She looked around to see Stevenson looking at her, smiling.

"I would accept it if I were you," he said.

"Why should I?" Elizabeth asked.

"Well if you want to know; it is the best school for detectives to attend to improve their skills. Sherlock Holmes, for example, was a former student there and yes he is real. The books you have read are only parts of his life not the whole thing. I went there once but found out that I was better off getting a normal job. You, on the other hand, are a different story. The first time I met you, something told me that you were not an ordinary girl. When we were first introduced, you surprisingly deduced part of my life."

"Why now?"

"Well, it depends if you are ready to go; right now you are. Any younger and you have been a havoc. The last time I went there, they had over 250 ten year-olds. It was a total nightmare."

"How about now?"

"I really don't know, when I left I had shut myself from the wizarding world."

"You mean to tell me that the school teaches magic? What next Harry Potter and the Famous Sherlock Holmes?"

"I think you've caught on the next blow-out."

"Arrgh, just give me a minute to write the letter."

As soon as she was finished, a grey hawk appeared at her window tapping softly. _Wow they're quick, _she thought, as she opened the window. The hawk flew in, dropped a packet on the carpet near Elizabeth, and left with the letter. _Somehow, the hawk looks as though I've met him before, _she thought as it left Picking up the packet, she opened it. Out came a list of supplies, a ticket, and another letter. This letter, however, was the one that sent her eye and mouth gaping wide open.

"Dear Miss Weinwright it said,

The rest of the staff and I want to thank you for you cooperation. Not many have been able to accept the fact, much to my distaste, that we fictional detectives and sidekicks are in fact real. I should also thank your friend, Stevenson, a former student of mine, for his suggestion of you accepting. As to business. The information about the supply list and the train ticket should be answered by Stevenson. The date of your leave should be the first of September. I wish you a safe trip and shall be awaiting you with many others at your stop, Myster Station.

Best Wishes,

_Professor Sherlock Holmes,_

Of the Justice Department

(P.S. Please bring your violin; this school has a superb orchestra.)"

"You were a student of Sherlock Holmes?" Elizabeth practically yelled.

"Yep, and as to the train it will leave at noon sharp at King's Cross Station. The way to get aboard is the tricky part but that's not until Wednesday. Right now we have to get your supplies," said Stevenson.

"And just how are going to get them?" Elizabeth had just read the supply list.

"Just follow me and you will see."

The Normans, who somehow found out about letter, were amazed. "I knew it from the day you were born that you were special," said Mrs. Norman. She then asked Stevenson if he still remembered the way to Harrowman's Market. He said "Yes."

"Um, if you don't mind I like to know about Harrowman's Market," said a nervous Elizabeth, as they drove to a quiet lane near Piccadilly Circus.

"You shall see in a minute," replied Stevenson.

They parked in front of a deserted pub. Stevenson got out and opened the door for Elizabeth.

"Why stop here?" she asked.

"Well, this here pub is the gate to Harrowman's Market," answered Stevenson.

"Won't the other people around us notice us entering a deserted building?"

"Actually no because this place is hexed. When a person, unknown to a fellow wizarding school, comes around here they don't notice anything."

"You mean to tell me that there are more schools similar to the Academy of Mysteries?"

"Yep and they all come to Harrowman's Market to get their supplies, well, only the students in England."

When Elizabeth entered the pub she was amazed. Instead of being empty it was filled with merriment and laughter. Just then, a short, moustachioed man came over to them. _His face is somehow familiar_, thought Elizabeth, then it hit her. _Not so portly, has a military moustache, a kind face, a bulge in his bowler, short, and wears Victorian clothes. _All this came to her in two seconds of thought.

"You're Dr. John H Watson?!" cried Elizabeth staring at him in the face.

Everyone looked at her then shook their heads and continued their business. "Yes, I am and how do you do?" said Dr. Watson.

"I'm fine, thank you. Wait! Aren't you supposed to be old?"

"Yes, well, but I am what you call an immortal."

"Immortal!"

"Yes, but only the ones that can be immortal are the ones that have done deeds, famous enough for many to remember. But that is if you want to be immortal."

"Um, if you don't mind, shouldn't we be seated at a table?" said Stevenson.

"Oh my, I just remembered my errand, oh how silly of me. Well if you don't mind I have to buy some books. Farewell Miss err, sorry I didn't get your name yet."

"Elizabeth Weinwright."

"Ahh, then farewell Miss Elizabeth Weinwright."

He left through a back door.

"A cheery fellow isn't he?" said Elizabeth. Stevenson agreed. They crossed the pub and went through the same back door only to find a street crowded with people of many types going here and there. "Now for the fun part. Shopping for supplies," said Stevenson. First they stopped at a shop titled "The Zoologian", where many strange animals peered out of their cages.

"Now tell me why we have to come here?" said Elizabeth.

"Well as a proper citizen of the wizarding world, you need a familiar. Don't ask me for my familiar, you don't want to know. Now take a look around and see if any of them feel comfortable to you," answered Stevenson.

Elizabeth looked about the shop. She was halfway through when her legs, with minds of their own, stopped at cage near the Aviary. The cage was huge and in it, sleeping soundly, was a falcon. It was a Gyrfalcon. _How beautiful,_ she thought. As if it was a signal the falcon woke up and stared at her with its amber eyes.

"Looks as if you found your familiar," said a voice behind her. Startled she turned around. There stood the shopkeeper with Stevenson behind her. As he neared his mouth hung open. "If I hadn't known better, you're going to become something because falcons, and the same goes for hawks, are not often chosen as a person's familiar," said Stevenson. Elizabeth blushed then asked, "How much shall it be?"

"She and it's £27 please," answered the shopkeeper.

Later on with bags full of books, uniforms, pens, paper and other knickknacks. They packed it all up in the trunk and headed home for a surprise celebration.

Chapter Three

"Today is the day, today is the day," sang Elizabeth, in her uniform. Today was the first of September, she and Stevenson were preparing for the trip to King's Cross. Norman and his wife were coming along to wish her a good year. Along the way, Norman explained the tricky process of getting aboard the Myster Express.

"To get aboard you need to pass a barrier; the barrier is between platforms 6 and 7. You need to through the wall no matter what you feel. To many it feels like jelly," he said.

"How do you know of this anyway?" asked Elizabeth.

"Through Stevenson, of course!"

"Oh, sorry, my nerves are failing me."

After surviving the traffic jam, they made their way across the station to platforms 6 and 7. Elizabeth and Arctilia (whom she named the falcon after doing some research about her home) along with her two laden trunks were soon pushed through the wall in between with no one even noticing. She and the others soon found themselves on a platform filled with parents and many students. Elizabeth's luggage was loaded in the baggage trolley with the exception of her falcon and her violin case.

It was at the end of the train that she found an empty compartment. "What a week, eh, Arctilia?" Elizabeth asked her now only companion. Arctilia nodded in agreement as if she understood, "Now how about some music? Stevenson had something about a long ride.". Hoping that no one minded and heard she took out her violin and started with an A-scale. But as soon as she finished she closed her eyes and went even deeper to play something that just poured out.

Outside the compartment, unknown to Elizabeth, a tall figure stood watching the performance.

Inside the occupant suddenly stopped at the feeling of being watched. Elizabeth looked out but found no one. _Must be my imagination._

After she packed her violin the train stopped. It was Myster Station.

She along with the other passengers exited the train.


End file.
